


A Midnight Walk

by jae_blaze



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A Grey Scarf, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jae_blaze/pseuds/jae_blaze
Summary: New Year’s Eve means leaving the past year behind and setting your sights on something new. Mycroft would like to do nothing more than that, but is at a loss as to how to get what he wants.Will a snowy midnight walk with a handsome detective be just what he needs?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 38
Kudos: 179





	A Midnight Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this has been quite the year. This would not have been possible without the love and support of my favourite dragon and beta, [thesoupdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoupDragon/pseuds/TheSoupDragon), a real diamond gel 🐉
> 
> Happy New Year Everyone!

Mycroft stood outside 221B.

He could go inside. He could. And he would, he just needed a minute. He was already late and doubted that anyone would mind if he were a few moments later. The car that had delivered him had left when his hand touched the doorknob, but instead of entering his brother’s flat, he took a step back. The knocker was turned askew. As usual. He resisted the urge to adjust it. It was easy to let it be, things like this did not actually bother him. It was a role he played. And right now, he was tired of playing. He wanted something different. He wanted someone. That was the problem.

He wanted.

Mycroft leaned back against the wall and contemplated the pack of cigarettes in his front pocket as he watched a couple walk down the pavement, wrapped in each other’s arms, giggling, one tucked into the other, sharing some inside joke, inside moment. Sharing breath. Trust. Space.

Maybe it was simply this time of year that was driving the melancholy. The lights up and down the street, the trees decorated in the windows, the merry shouts, the champagne, the end of a year, and what did he have to show for it?

Plenty, he told himself. And he would have believed it if at that moment, a car hadn’t pulled up and the man who had been occupying his thoughts - much more than someone should - hadn’t stepped out. Greg stood before him, wrapped in a grey coat with matching scarf, looking handsome, momentarily stopping his breath.

Mycroft wanted.

"Happy New Year, Mycroft!" Greg gave a smile and wave as he walked over to where Mycroft was currently working on camouflaging himself with the wall.

"Happy New Year, Greg."

"Not quite ready to brave the festivities?" He pointed upstairs. 

"Not as such, no.”

"Fancy a walk?" 

Mycroft knew he should say no, but he found he could not deny the man in front of him. "Lead on," he replied with a smile.

“So, what has brought you here so late?” Greg asked after a few moments of silence.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Oh, the usual, uncooperative drunk and a telephone pole - he was offended it didn’t share his affections,” Greg laughed as he then told Mycroft the story, which ended in him having to tackle the naked man and drag him down to detox at the station. “Don’t laugh! I’ll be disinfecting the car for a month!”

“Your reason for lateness is far better than mine, I’m afraid.”

“Taking over the world?”

“That was last week.” Watching Greg’s laugh and knowing he was the cause set a shiver of longing through Mycroft.

"You cold?" Greg asked.

Yes, Mycroft was cold, now that he thought about it. The temperature had dropped since they started their walk. The wind was biting into his face and snow was settling down around his ears and neck. But he didn't want to go back, he didn't want the walk to be over. He liked seeing the city like this, quiet and new, covered in the fresh blanket of snow. The street lamps sparkling through the downfall, creating a snow globe effect around them. There were no footprints before them. It was as if the world was new. Anything could happen.

"Not at all. It’s fine," he answered. 

"Liar," Greg huffed. "You're shivering!"

"Well, I hadn’t planned to be out for quite so long."

"Why didn't you say so? Nobody's a hero here."

Mycroft looked over and lifted an eyebrow. "Gregory, did you not just tell me a tale of how you rescued the city from a man attempting to woo a telephone pole? If that is not heroism, I do not know what is."

"Ok, ok," Greg laughed. “The trauma pay alone.”

“It must be astronomical,” Mycroft teased.

“Well then, as the hero, come here,” Greg said, as he took his scarf off and wrapped it around Mycroft’s neck, looping it to ensure he was protected before stepping back. "There, isn't that better?"

Was it? Mycroft wondered. He was now engulfed in the scent of Gregory. The scarf was still warm from where it had been pressed against the man's skin for heaven’s sake! How was he to survive this? Instead of answering Greg’s question, he gave a nod and continued walking, kicking up the snow slightly with his ill-advised shoes as he moved. Greg followed silently beside him, his hands deep in his pockets.

Across the street, Mycroft saw couples wrapped around each other, leaning against walls, preparing for the all-important New Year’s Eve midnight kiss. Mycroft wondered how long it had been since he had last had a midnight kiss. He looked over at Greg's profile. How easy would it be to simply grasp onto the man and pull him close, whisper the words he only thought in his head late at night, when he felt safe enough to allow himself to dream of what he wished could be. This was dangerous thinking.

God, Mycroft wanted.

"We should head back," Mycroft said and stopped walking.

"Why?” Greg asked, as he turned to face Mycroft. The snow had picked up. Thick flakes gathered on Greg's eyelashes and his cheeks had a red glow from the cold. God, he was beautiful. And dangerous.

"Because I'm not feeling myself. The snow, the new year, it's all too much. I’m likely to say something I shouldn’t. I want..." Mycroft's voice was a broken confession in the silence. “I like it all too much.”

"It's ok, Mycroft." Greg's smile was gentle, open, and another emotion Mycroft couldn't identify. It looked almost fond. What wouldn't Mycroft give to have Greg look at him like that every day? “It’s ok to like things.”

"Is it?" Mycroft asked. 

"It is," Greg took a step closer to Mycroft. "For instance, I like snow. Now you tell me something."

"I know how conversation works, Gregory."

"Oh yeah? Prove it then."

"I, too, am a fan of the snow."

"That feels a bit like cheating," Greg tilted his head with a grin. "You just repeating what I said back to me."

"Fine." Mycroft rolled his eyes while trying to fight a grin of his own. "I like walking in snow."

"Yeah? Me too. Especially with you." At Greg's smile, Mycroft found his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He licked his lips. Greg's eyes followed the movement as he took another step forward.

"Good, that's...that's good. I like that part, too.” God, words, brain, work.

"You know what else I like?" Greg asked, his voice low and husky.

"What else do you like?" Was it suddenly getting hard to breathe?

"I also really, really like you wearing my scarf, Mycroft."

"Yes?" Mycroft's voice came out in barely a whisper.

"Oh, yes," Greg ran his hands down the scarf, his scarf he had placed around Mycroft’s neck, and wrapped his hands around the ends, tugging slightly towards himself. Mycroft went willingly. "And Myc?"

"Yeah?"

"I really, really, really like you," Greg gave the scarf a final tug and closed the distance between him and Mycroft, pulling him down into a kiss.

Their lips met softly at first. Cold and then warm.

Mycroft froze, his mind cataloguing every sensation. The feeling of Greg’s lips against his, soft, a scent so uniquely Greg, coffee and spice, the gentle pressure of the scarf around his neck from the pull. He felt Greg begin to retreat and he chased forward, wrapping his hand around the back of Gregory’s neck and digging his fingers into his hair, he deepened the kiss. Greg met his mouth enthusiastically and when his tongue licked across his lips, Mycroft’s mind went off-line. He allowed Greg to pull their bodies flush against each other. Mycroft wanted.

"Happy New Year!" Cheers rang out all around them and penetrated Mycroft's consciousness. He reluctantly pulled back from Greg and rested his forehead against Greg’s to try to catch his breath. 

Oh. 

Oh god. 

What had just happened?

"Happy New Year, Mycroft," Greg whispered, interrupting Mycroft's mental freak out by chasing his lips for another soft kiss. Kissing Greg felt like coming home.

"Happy New Year, Gregory," Mycroft whispered back.

"Get a room!" a drunk man shouted out as he and another man stumbled past them, arms entwined.

"Not a bad idea," Greg smiled up at Mycroft, a small hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Would you care to continue this somewhere else, or we can head back to your brother's party or--"

Mycroft raised a finger to Greg’s lips and silenced his nervous talking. He was done wanting from afar. It was now or never. 

“Greg, I have to be honest with you,” he took a deep breath. Courage. “I have wanted...for some time…”

Greg reached up and took Mycroft’s finger away from his mouth. “Mycroft, did you not hear me earlier? I want you, too.”

Mycroft’s heart squeezed. He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Greg’s lips. "Come back to mine," he whispered into Greg's mouth, their breath mingling together, snow falling around them heavier still. Someone was setting off fireworks somewhere nearby.

“You know, there is a belief that whoever you spend New Year’s Eve with, that's who you will spend the New Year with. Think you could be up for it?”

Mycroft looked at the man smiling before him. “It will be difficult, but I’m sure I’ll find a way to manage.”


End file.
